The Attack
by Moxie
Summary: Hermione in her first day as Head Girl is face to face with the ultimate catastrophe... Voldemort attacking.
1. Sour Tragedy

The Return

What can I say? Where should I start? The beginning...Maybe I should start where this all began....But, in essence, where did it begin?

I don't know why I'm writing this, but, well, it might prove useful to the history books one day, if someone keeps a close record. That is, if I'm alive to even see someone to give this to...oh, well. If I end up dead and rotting somewhere in a valley, hopefully someone will find this roll of parchment. If not, well, it makes a good outlet for bottled feelings at this date and time.

Time? What is time? I have lost all sense of time and date, all thoughts for the future, what is now is now, and I must prepare for the task of living through tomorrow. Time is nothing to me now.

Well, on with the documentary. My name is Hermione Felicity Granger, I am seventeen years old, and was currently in my seventh year at Hogwarts, until Hogwarts was...otherwise unable to teach anymore. It is now Voldemort's sanctuary.

I do not fear that name anymore. It is now a name that represents fear, anger and destruction all at once. It's sound has torn apart families, spilt innocent people's blood, wizard or not, tore apart the fabric of life as I knew it as recently as a year ago. It is a synonym for evil at it's essence, the core of it. It commands a wary respect, but no fear from me anymore.

Where to begin? Well, I'm sure I don't need to write down the legacy of who was Tom Marvolo Riddle, or Harry Potter. You know the story of the orphaned boy who grew to hate muggles and muggle-born wizards (also referred to as Mudbloods, as Malfoy would be so persistent to remind me) and became the most powerful Dark wizard of all time. You also know the story of the other orphaned boy who grew up with his cousins, and is (was?) one of my best friends I ever, and ever shall have. You know of how he had foiled all of Voldemort's plots six times: one for every year he had know he was a wizard. But the seventh time...he failed, as far as I know.

I was entering the Headmaster's (then Dumbledore) turret. I had gotten the owl that had notified me that I was Head Girl. Naturally, I was thrilled. It seems so frivolous to me now, but, then again, all of the pleasures of my life then seem frivolous to me now. Well, Dumbledore smiled his normal friendly smile, and spoke.

"I am very proud of you Miss Granger," he said, eyes twinkling. "These are your Head Girl robes. Somehow, when I saw you get 120 percent average on all of your exam scores the first year, I knew that one day, I would have the honor of giving you this title." I almost swelled with pride when I took the bundle from Dumbledore.

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore, sir," I replied. "It is a great honor to hear that come from your mouth, in person." I don't normally speak like that, but when I want to be eloquent, I can be eloquent with a vengeance. Professor Dumbledore smiled again.

"Well, then, go on. I've got some paperwork to attend to, if you don't mind." I assured him that I didn't, and I left the room at a hurry, eager to try on my new robes.

Practically sprinting down the glossy marble halls, I tore into the nearest bathroom, which also happened to be Moaning Myrtle's room. She was in her stall, blubbering pitifully as usual, but I paid her no heed, and she the same. Siding into the farthest stall from the morose ghost, I ripped off my plain black gown with the prefect pin on it, and slid on the Head Girl robes. They were made of a nicer material than my old robes, and the sleeves were a bit drapier, they looked like teacher's robes. They were also maroon, for my house color, and the pin signifying my rank said 'HG' for Head Girl, in fancy script, studded in golden rhinestones that glittered when I walked. I was never so proud.

I strutted out of the bathroom, and ran into the person that I was least intent on seeing at the moment: Draco Malfoy. He was wearing long, dark emerald robes in the style of mine, that contrasted starkly against his otherwise pale complexion. But what struck icy fear in my heart was the fact that on the left side of his chest, there was a pin, studded in diamond-colored rhinestones (In fact, they probably were real diamonds) that said 'HB'. Head Boy. I was stunned.

"Well, well. Congratulations, Granger. I see that the Mudblood has finally made something of herself. Such a shocker." My pride bristled immediately.

"Shut up, Malfoy. At least I earned my pin. I didn't buy my way up." Draco's eyes flickered in the dim candlelight, and he raised his blonde eyebrows in interest.

"And how would you know, Granger? How would you know if I bought my way up? For all you know, I may have earned it." I rolled my eyes in the back of my head. How dense did he think I was?

"Because you never earn anything, Malfoy. You buy your grades, you buy your spot on the Quidditch team, and you've bought your Head Boy pin. I know you too well." Malfoy's eyes dropped their normal hard, icy look. They looked...almost hurt, like I had struck him. But a second later, they regained their frosty, forbidden look, and he heaved his chest out.

"_You_ don't know _me_, Granger," the voice was not the harsh snap, or the snobby drawl that I was accustomed to. "You think you do, but you don't." I was at a loss for words. I, Hermione Granger, possessor of the largest vocabulary on the planet, was actually at a loss for words. Stunning, isn't it? Malfoy's eyes glittered, and he left down the corridor at a brisk pace.

Looking over my writing, I notice I regard eyes a lot. I think the best part of any person's body is their eyes. Most people care for legs, or chests, or other things, but for me, the taker is the eyes. That's because when you look at a persons eyes, they show emotion. Legs don't do that. You can't look at a person's leg and see if they are angry, sad, happy, or surprised. Well, on with the story.

My good mood partially dampened, I retreated back to the Gryffindor common room, where I could have a nice chat with Harry or Ron, or curl up in a soft, overstuffed chair with a juicy novel to pass the time. Walking up to the Fat Lady's portrait, I hissed the password at her, and she let me in with an approving smile. When I walked into the common room, dead silence reigned, and I was quite startled for a moment. That is, until Harry stood up with this big, warm smile on his face, and started to clap loudly. Ron followed in suit, followed by the entire room. I was flattered, and could feel my cheeks going a bright pink in the process. When the clapping had died down, Harry motioned me over to an empty chair by the fire, which I accepted. Ron prodded my shoulder playfully.

"So, I see that the smartest female in the history of Hogwarts has finally gotten her dues, eh?" I rolled my eyes in the back of my head.

"Like you can talk, Mr. Gryffindor head prefect." Ron's cheeks went nearly as red as his his hair as his fiddled with his pin that had 'HGP' on it, for Head Gryffindor Prefect. I knew that he was immensely proud of the fact, since no Weasley had been a head prefect in a while. Harry pushed his glasses up his nose and smiled.

"I had the chance to be the captain of the Gryffindor team," he said abruptly. Ron's eyes shot away from his badge, and I looked up.

"Really?" asked Ron, breathless. "Did you accept?" Harry grinned again, showing clean white teeth.

"No," was the simple reply. Ron's jaw dropped, and my arms flomped to the sides in shock. Who would want to refuse that honor?

"May I ask why not?" asked Ron, looking like he had just been crushed. Harry laughed and shook his head.

"I'm already 'Famous Harry Potter', and that's all the title I want." I couldn't help but grin. Harry Potter, famous as ever, modest as ever. Pardon the fact if the paper is a little tear-stained and blotchy. It's hard to remember good times like that was, when now...well, I guess I can't get into the depressing part of the story yet. I haven't even gotten to the 'good' part yet.

We went on with the idle chitchat like that, until around ten-thirty. Then I announced that I was tired and was going to retire. The boys nodded and bid me goodnight, and I sleepily climbed the stairs. To my relief, the bedroom was deserted, and for a few minutes, I had privacy. Forgetting all modesty, I ripped off my Head Girl Robes, and tore into my nightgown. 

"Hey, Miss Head Girl." I looked up from folding up my robes to find Lavender Brown. I grinned back at her. I don't understand why, but most people just assume I'm enemies with her for some reason. She's not exactly a good friend, she's rather ditzy, but she's not mean to me either. I swatted at her, and grinned.

"Well, then, Miss Chaser." Yes. Believe it or not, Lavender Brown made the Quidditch team. She's pretty decent at it, actually. She smiled back.

"I'm going down to the foyer. Wanna come?" There is a small parlor space in the foyer of the school, and people from all houses go there to swap stories and gossip. It basically was the social core of Hogwarts. But at that moment, I didn't want to go down and torture my ears with incessant babble about who was going out with whom. I just wanted to think. So, I shook my head.

"No, you go on ahead. I've got a headache. Have fun." Lavender shook her head. 

"Suit yourself." She walked out the door. I flopped on my bed, and the mattress enveloped me like a cocoon. I sat there and rested for a few minutes, until I heard a rapping on the window. Unhappily rousing myself, I squinted out into the blackness that seemed to push up against the window, without any stars to pin it back where it belonged. Well, after peering out the window for a few seconds, I saw a small owl with a big bundle, frantically trying to land. I hurriedly opened the door and brought it inside. After the owl let the bundle go, a small letter and a wrapped package fell onto Patil's bed. Looking at the letter, I saw it was addressed to me. Seeing the owl for the first time, I recognized the golden owl that my parents had bought last summer, named ShimmerClaw. ShimmerClaw screeched a greeting at me, and landed on my headboard, waiting. I opened the letter. In my mother's loopy script, it read:

_Dearest Hermione,_

How are you, sweetie? Your father and I miss you already, and you haven't even been gone for two weeks!(Isn't that just like a mother?) _Well, I sure haven't gotten used to the wizarding owl transit system yet, and I don't think I ever shall, since this dratted owl of ours won't stay still long enough for me to give it the bloody letter! Anyway, enough about me. Since your father and I were out of town for your summertime birthday, we decided to get you your present now. Remember to brush and floss every day, and don't eat too much sugar. _(That's what it's like, having two dentists for parents_.) Please write back soon, dear._

Love,

Mum and Dad

My attention turned to the brown paper parcel in front of me. Dropping the letter, I savaged the paper until it was fully shredded and I could see its contents. Quite predictably, they were books, but I was thrilled. Advanced Transfigurations: Animangi I had always wanted to try to become an Animangi, and it would be inresting to read about it. The Scarlet Letter. That's been my favorite book for some time now, but I needed a new copy. And finally: Pride and Prejudice. Well, I had never read that before. Deciding that the perfect time to start would be tonight, I hurriedly dug out a squashed quill from my pocket, and borrowed a half-empty bottle of cornflower-blue ink that was sitting, unused, on Patil's desk. Shaking up the ink, I wet the tip of the quill and scribbled out a quick note:

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

Thanks ever so much for the books; I needed some new ones. I miss you too. But, it's not too much longer to winter break, but I'm healthy, and enjoying myself here thoroughly. Please don't worry or fret about me, I'm fine, and I can take care of myself, or so I like to think. No, I haven't been eating that many sweets, and yes, I love you too.

Love always,

Hermione

With that, I sealed the letter and gave it back to ShimmerClaw, who nipped up the bit of paper with great dignity and soared out the window. For a couple of moments, I watched the black silhouette of the bird dip and dive gracefully through the nighttime sky. When she had flitted out of sight, I picked up my new books and walked to my bed. Closing the curtains for privacy, and telling people I did not want to be bothered, I took out my wand.

"_Lumos_," I muttered to it while waving it around. The inside of my little tent glowed with the light from the tip of the wand. I read for about, maybe an hour, or until my eyes got so sore and tired of the words, that they refused to focus. Rubbing at my swollen eyes, I put the books on a neat pile on the floor by my bed, planning to put them away in the morning.

"_Nox_," I yawned at my wand. The light extinguished, and I put the wand on the floor by my new books. Sliding under my soft, warm covers, I fell into an innocent sleep, not knowing what awaited me about two or three hours later.

# # #

I was interrupted from my writing so I could sleep for the night, and tend to matters today. Now that it is night again, I can write more about the ambush that Voldemort had in store for us that fateful night.

Well, I was sleeping, when I heard the giant 'BOOM' downstairs. I was quite frightened, and I leapt out of bed, kicking my wand somewhere over on the other side of the room. In the dark, I stood there like a git, trying to find out if I had just dreamed the noise. But I had not. Other girls in my room were groggily sitting up in their beds, looking mussed and rumpled as they looked about stupidly. Not willing to listen to their babble, I shoved on a bathrobe and scuttled downstairs, where I was met with a bunch of confused people, which was slowly starting to turn into a confused mob. Most of them were like me, bedraggled and in their bedclothes, but some of them had pulled on robes, looking startled. I headed for the portrait hole.

"I'm going to see what's the matter," I said, pouring what authority into my voice that I could have at four in the morning. "I'd better not hear of anybody leaving. Harry, you're in charge. Ron, as Head Prefect, I need you to come with me." Ron and Harry nodded curtly, and as Harry tended to the frantic younger kids, Ron came with me through the portrait hole.

"I wonder what happened?" Ron asked, picking up his stride. Ron has such god-cursed long, spindly legs that every step he took, I seemed to have to take three. Pretty soon I had to practically trot to keep up with him.

"I have no freaking idea. But it had _better_ be good." Needless to say, I am not a morning person. Ron just grinned an irritating smile and we walked at a brisk pace to the Great Hall. Well, If I remember correctly, the quickest way to get from our dorms to the Great Hall was through the Transfigurations corridor. We were halfway down the hallway, when I noticed a faint green glow down a turn to the left where we were standing. It was rapidly getting closer, and I pointed this out to Ron. We both ducked behind a suit of armor, and waited.

"D'you think that this will actually work, my lord?" Came a slightly drawling, familiar voice. One that was scratchy, greasy, nasal, oily, and nasty all at once answered it.

"Come now Lucius, you have no faith in me or my plans. Everything has been planned and under control at the moment. Have some faith, why don't you?" The greenish glow came into our corridor, nearly blinding us. When it did, it was an eerie sight to behold.

A figure walked down the hallway, shoes echoing against the tile, coming to bounce off the silent walls of the deserted corridor. He was talking to what seemed to be a ball of green fire, nearly as tall as the figure itself. Ron leaned towards my ear.

"Hey, that's Malfoy's dad, isn't it?" he whispered, so quietly that I could barely hear it. I nodded stupidly, my eyes never leaving the green fireball. I don't remember exactly what was going on in my brain at that moment, but I think I was wondering what part Malfoy, Draco Malfoy was playing in this, if his father was casually talking to this ball of green fire, who seemed to be the ringleader of this plan. Suddenly, the suit of armor that we were hiding behind fell with a crash. Lucius Malfoy and the ball of fire turned to look at us. There was dead silence, as we regarded each other for a moment. Then Ron yelled.

"You're....You-Know-Who!" Lucius Malfoy grinned a sadistic grin, and scuffed his foot against the floor, raising his wand.

"And you're one of the Weasley children. So nice to have you along. I assume that you heard the commotion downstairs?" I was so terrified at the moment that I didn't feel scared any more. My eyes were on the spirit of Voldemort, not on the speaker.

"And," Mr. Malfoy continued, "I am so sorry to report that your dear Professor Dumbledore has passed away, as recent as maybe..." He looked at his watch, smiling even more coldly, if that was possible, "....a half-hour ago." My legs turned to stone, and Ron's jaw dropped in stupefied disbelief. Voldemort's essence turned to us. Even though he had no face, I could tell that he must have been wearing a sarcastic grin, dripping with fake sympathy.

"Yes, my dear children, I am so sorry..." he ended up in an eruption of maniac laughter that burnt me to the bone as well as chilled my soul. I noticed that as Voldemort spoke, he was getting brighter, and Lucius Malfoy raised his wand, in position to curse something, namely us. Ron gripped my arm with a cold, sweat soaked palm.

"RUN!!" he cried, and we did so. Lucius's curse, and Voldemort's...well, whatever Voldemort's attack was planning to be missed us by a rat's whisker. It totally blew up an entire section of the wall. But I didn't take the time to gawk. Ron and I were sprinting down the halls, the slap of out bare feet against the floor seeming to be louder than the explosion had been. I could hear Voldemort's high-pitched laughing echoing down the chambers in which we ran. I hated it. I tried to cover my ears, but the sound was still echoing in my brain. I still hear it, mostly in my darkest nightmares. 

We vaulted at the picture of the Fat Lady, only to find that she was so scared that she had fled the painting. I banged at the portrait, and I could hear screams from within, as well as Harry's voice, trying to calm everybody down. Ron lost his temper.

"To hell with this." He took out his wand and pointed it at the picture. "_Alecrishtman_!" I knew that spell by heart about three years ago, and I was not surprised at the results. A gigantic explosion that was much too loud and the painting was blown into little shreds. 

We ripped the rest of the portrait off the walls, and leapt through the hole, to come face to face with Harry Potter in a battle stance, and he shouted a spell.

"_Qwety Elsonnat_!" Ron and I dove to the side, just in time to avoid a yellow fireball hurtling at us. It caught the shards of canvas that had shattered on the floor, as well as the rug, and it burst into flames. Harry raised his wand to try again, when I yelled at him.

"Harry, you brainless git! It's us, Hermione and Ron!" I don't know what possessed him to try again, maybe he thought we were sentries from Voldemort shape-shifted to look like us, or something like that. But my yelling was enough to get him to stop. Ignoring the fire that was starting behind us, he stared.

"What happened?" Looking down at myself, I found a large, bloody gash down my left thigh. Ron had a vicious slash on his forehead. We must have been struck by debris from the blown-apart wall. I guessed it was too dark in the hallways, and I was too scared to know I had been wounded. I still had too much adrenaline to feel any pain. I didn't care at the moment.

"Harry, It's Voldemort." Several people gasped at my use of Voldemort's blatant name, but I didn't care. Harry looked a bit surprised to hear me say his name, but allowed me to continue. "He's gotten three times more powerful than before, and, and...Oh, oh, Harry, Dumbledore is dead." I whimpered out the last sentence, and I could see Harry's - as well as the rest of the room's - eye's widen with shock, and then fill with tears. He swallowed several times before speaking. 

"I see." He looked around the room. "I've beaten Voldemort before, I can do it again, right?" I gripped his arm, and Ron blocked the portrait hole. I wasn't going to let him go this time. Not after what I had seen Lucius Malfoy and Voldemort do to that wall in the Transfiguration hallway.

"Harry," said Ron in his sedate voice, "You can't. You-Know-Who blew apart an entire wall with just one curse. There's no way you can beat him alone. Please, Harry. Have some common sense," he begged. I didn't say anything. There was nothing more to say. I just looked at him pleadingly, and hoped he got the hint. Harry sighed.

"Well, what do you suppose we do then?" he looked around. "Hey. Where's McGonagall? For that matter, where are all the teachers? Surely, they would be here at a crisis like this." I looked around. He was right. Where were the teachers, anyway? 

We didn't have much time to ponder this, though, as another explosion, similar to the one that had woken us all up, but worse. It shook the very foundation of the school, and flaming bits of canvas were thrown everywhere, as well as a deal of rocks were shaken out of the walls. People started screaming as chairs started bursting into flaming bonfires.

I grabbed Ron's wand out of his hands, thanking whatever guardian angel was bestowing upon me when Flitwik taught me all those extra-complicated charms.

"Gandun Phlisphiote!" I screamed. A swell of seawater came out of the end of the wand, dowsing everything. Before anyone could say anything, there was another explosion, this one even larger than the last, and parts of the wall began to crumble. The entire room went into chaos. People were screaming, crying, and otherwise going hysterical. Taking the lead from what I had seen teachers do, I shot sparks in the air until everybody had calmed down. It was time to test my leadership skills. What a way to start off being Head Girl.

"All right, everybody, listen up!" I bellowed. "I want all of the second through seventh years over here fixing up the walls so they don't collapse on us. Then, I want everybody to evacuate this school building!" I cried, sounding much more confident in myself then I felt. "Everybody move!" Everybody, - save the first years, as it was only the first day of school and they didn't even know how to wield a wand properly yet - started to do strengthening spells, to keep the roof over our heads. I was talking a group of confused third-years through it, when I heard Harry call out to me.

"Hermione! The walls are going to cave in no matter what we do! We need to get out of here, and fast!" It was hard to argue with someone that speaks like that, so I raised my voice again, which was starting to get hoarse with all the yelling that I had done recently.

"Everybody, drop what you're doing, and get out!" There was a mad rush to the portrait hole, and Ron had to regulate that everybody got out one at a time, so nobody got stuck. I was the last one out. After climbing out, I came face to face with Harry again. In the dark, he looked almost ethical, strong, and proud.

"Listen. Get all the first years out of here. Me'n everyone else are staying." I couldn't believe my ears. But I knew that if Famous Harry Potter makes his mind up, It's hard to convince him otherwise. So I swallowed my fear and pride, and I nodded. I stepped in front of the crowd of Gryffindors, and I knocked a statue over, so I could use its base as a pedestal. When I climbed on top of it, everybody instantly shut up. I cleared my throat.

"How many of you have ever heard of the Alamo?" I could tell that I had stunned people by asking about this, as it seemed totally unrelated. Ron looked at me, one eyebrow raised. I sighed and got down.

"It was a battle in America, a long time ago, okay?" I said, not really wanting to delve into the subject. I jumped off the statue's pedestal and grabbed Ron's wand. I drew a shimmering golden line on the tile in front of me. It seemed to glow in the darkness. I went on with my explanation of the battle at the Alamo.

"The general, whom I believe was Col. Travis, drew a line in the sand with his sword, before they went to protect the Alamo. They could either stay and fight, or step across that line and slip into the night, unharmed." There was dead silence besides my voice in the hallway. It seemed as if time had stopped as I told my tale.

"Everyone, except the first years, has the same choice that those soldiers had. You may step across this line, and come with me and the first years, or you may stay behind and fight. But before you choose, remember that all the men that did not step across that line in the sand died." I could see a chill sweep through the room as I said that. "There is a possibility that you may die also. Who wants to leave?" Nobody moved. I tried again.

"Are you sure?" I looked down at my fellow seventh years. "I would rather stay and...and fight," I said, voice wavering. In reality, I did not want to fight, and by the nonchalant looks on their faces, they didn't either. "Do any of you want to take the first years out instead?" Still, nobody moved. Not even Neville. I swallowed.

"Very well. I wish you Godspeed." I dropped my formal tempo and yelled out again. "First years, follow me!" Nine boys and eleven girls trotted up to me. I looked them over. The first year's class was very small this year, I knew that that was true. I sighed.

"Follow me." I whirled around, and the first years followed me.

That was the last time I ever saw Ron, or Harry, or Seamus, or Lavender, or any other of the Gryffindors. I don't know what happened, or if they are even still alive. It has been almost a week, I think, since I have seen Hogwarts at all. I guess all I can do is hope and pray.

Well, I led the first years out the twistiest, most hidden passage I could find. I must credit them: they were very good about being silent, and followed my orders without questioning them. I didn't see Voldemort or Lucius Malfoy, but I didn't see any teachers either. I did meet up with a group of first year Hufflepuffs, without a prefect with them. They seemed lost and scared out of their wits. It turned out that their Head Prefect, Ernie McMillian, told them directions to get out of the school, but had stayed behind to fight. I told them they could come with us.

My party now greatly enlarged, I finally led them out of the school. Despite it being the end of summer, the air seemed cold, and frigid somehow. I could tell that I was not the only one, as others pulled their bathrobes closer to their bodies in attempts to get warm. Wishing I had a light, I started to walk away from the school, wondering where to go. I was rudely interrupted from my thoughts, when I saw a flash of crimson light behind me. I whirled around, and saw that two of the turrets were engulfed in flames. It was like a train wreck. To horrible to watch, but too much drama involved to look away. Suddenly, there was a triumphant war cry, and something flaming shot towards me. I stepped back, and an arrow that had been lit on fire started scorching the grasses. Looking up, I saw a figure, aiming another arrow at me. 

"RUN!!" I cried to the first years, and we all started running, to God knew where. We ended up in the Forbidden Forest. Where else was there to go? The nearest wizarding town was Hogsmeade, which was too chancy to try to get to, and what were we going to say to a bunch of muggles, dressed in our nightclothes?

So, I was in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, with Voldemort at the only haven around, stuck with about forty sniffling, sobbing children, at night, with a full moon to boot. Some luck I was having at the time, wasn't it?

After plodding through an area thick with brambles, cutting our feet to fleshy strands, I decided that we needed some light. "Does anyone have a wand with them?" Everybody shook his or her heads. Thinking of my wand that I left stupidly in my room, I cursed. "Well, does anybody have anything that can produce light?" I must have sounded like a monster, and I must agree, I felt like one at the moment. A little Hufflepuff first year, named Eric Winegarden had a cigarette lighter. Not really wanting to know what he had it for, I clicked it until it produced a feeble flame. It didn't help much.

"All right. We need some light. I want a stick. A nice, tall one. Are there any in the area?" Shirley Modus, a Gryffindor, handed me one. Undoing the rope around my bathrobe waist, I tied the terrycloth to the stick in a large knot, and lit the terrycloth with the lighter. It made a nice torch. Beaming over my cleverness, I led the first years on through the darkness.

You know, when you've made the best of an awful situation, it always seems that something turns up to make what made life tolerable at the moment, disappear. In this case it was the torch. My rotten luck, it started to rain. The downpour made short work of my makeshift torch. Cursing, I tried to relight it, but the cloth was too wet and charred already to relight.

Flinging it down on the ground, I had to use what little restraint I had at the moment to keep from wailing like a little baby. I remembered the letter I had given my Mum only...had it only been about five hours before? Telling her that I could take care of myself. Where was all the confidence in my abilities now? Here was Hermione Granger, big girl, and all I wanted was my mother to take me in her arms and tell me that it would all be okay. Although I knew that my mother couldn't do that, I had too much pride, and nobody, not even my mother could tell me that it would all be okay. It probably wouldn't be.

That was when I saw the purple glow in the distance. I didn't know whether to run or to take chances. Squinting at it, I noticed that it did look like a fire, the way it flickered. You could bewitch fires to make sure that they didn't go out in the rain...Maybe it was a house. 

Looking back, I noticed for the first time that the Slytherins and the Ravenclaws were not in my group. Maybe it was one of them. I didn't care. I was desperate enough to go groveling to Malfoy for a dry place to sleep. And, well, if I had to, so mote it be, the saying said.

"Come on," I told the frightened, soaking wet first years. "Follow me. I think that that's a fire." We trudged through the mud and slop with bloodied feet until we came to a small clearing. We stepped into it, and saw a cave. The purple glow was coming from there. I walked in, with a slight reluctant jerk in my step. The first years crept along behind me. Turning around a corner, I saw who was unmistakably Draco Malfoy and the first year Slytherins. All of the Slytherins were asleep on the ground, snoring faintly. Draco just stared at me. Finally, he broke the silence.

"What do you want?" he sneered at me. I sighed, and had to bite my lip until I could taste the coppery tang of blood in my mouth to keep from snapping. I remember praying to God, or whoever was listening at the moment, to please soften Draco's heart so I could talk him into letting me and my charges stay.

"Please, Draco." He looked shocked that I was using his first name, and I continued. "Please let me and these other children stay. It's raining like hell outside, and we need a place to stay the night. Please. I'm begging you." He looked thoroughly amused at this point. I had to bite back all feelings to slap that smug look off of his face.

"Very well, Granger. Make yourself at home." The Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors looked at me, waiting for my say so. I sighed.

"Go on." They huddled around at the far end of the cave, and soon fell asleep. Draco threw another log on the roaring purple fire. I must admit, I was awed. Out of all the fire casting spells that I had done, I had seen blue, green, yellow, red, and even white, but not purple. Also looking at him - he was in boxers - he seemed to have no wand on him.

"How do you do that?" I asked him. He looked up. "The fire I mean," I went on, "how did you get it purple?" He gave a sneer, but it looked more like a sad smile than anything. "You don't have a wand," I helpfully pointed out for him. He sighed.

"You don't need a wand to do Dark magic, Granger. This is just a Dark magic spell. You mean that the perfect Hermione Granger can't do some type of spell? I'm shocked." He sat back in his spot. If he was shocked, I was that much more so. I knew something of Lucius Malfoy being able to do Dark Magics, but I didn't know that Draco could do them.

"You - you mean that you know how to use the Dark Arts?" I asked, sounding more awed and flabbergasted than I meant to. He gave a soft snort. In the light, his eyes seemed a sad silvery-purple. It looked like he was dragging up memories, and none of them were fond ones.

"Yes. And I'm pretty darn good at them too, if I do say so myself," he said. I noticed that he was obviously trying to sound proud of it, but it was failing. Miserably. He sat forward to poke at the fire again. That was when I saw his back. It was crisscrossed with what looked like welts. I leaned forward to get a closer look, but he whirled around. Not before, though, I got a glimpse of what the marks were. They were scars. He knew, he knew what I was looking at and what I had seen. He put a hand to his back while regarding me seriously with eyes the color of, and hard as granite. He swallowed audibly, and I spoke.

"Where'd you get those from?" I asked, trying to sound sensible, calm, and soothing, but it came out more as a horrified squeak. I didn't know if he was going to answer, because he averted his eyes back to the purple fire, and blinked. Finally, he spoke.

"None of your business, Mudblood," he said fiercely. I shrank back, but I noticed that when he went back to listlessly poking the fire, his eyes suddenly seemed overbright. That was a go-getter sign to me to keep on pressing. I can be very persuasive when I want to be I'll flatter myself by saying.

"About a thousand scars on your back doesn't look like nothing," I said innocently. I noticed his cringe, and I went on pressuring him. "You look like you were whipped." He shot his eyes towards the exit in the cave. It appeared that he would rather face the rain and the monsters outside than what he was facing in here. "Now," I went on calmly, "where did you get those scars at?" He winced, and then threw his wooden poker into the fire. He looked at me through those steely, cold, forbidding, eyes of his, and answered.

"My father," he said simply, as if he had just told me that he had gotten his eye color from his father. I was dumbfounded, and I couldn't think of anything to say. He appeared angry. No, wait, that's wrong. He was furious. "Are you happy now?" he asked, silver fire blazing in his eyes. "Are you happy, Granger? Well? Are you?" My words dried to ash in the back of my throat. I still couldn't think of much to say. Finally, I managed to speak.

"Why?" My body was shaking in spite of myself, because after all I had endured that day, it had all beginning to catch up to me. Running out of Hogwarts, the prospect of all my friends dying at the hands of Voldemort, Dumbledore dying, and then that....It was all too much. It's very painful to think about even now. My rush of feeling invincible and undangered was fading, and fading fast. Draco's bottom lip trembled ever so slightly before he answered.

"Bad temper, I guess. I could always tell when he had had a bad day at work. He would come home, throw his stuff down on the table, and come after me...Sometimes I would try to run away...but it never worked...I don't know why...Oh, dear God..." He had gotten this glazed over look when he had began speaking, like he was watching a film of himself running from his father. As much as I hated Malfoy, he had been nothing but a bastard since the second I met him, my heart wrung pitifully at the sight. I swallowed my suddenly dangerously gummy mouth, and looked over at Draco. Watery gray eyes locked on mine. I don't know why, but suddenly, a sob ripped from my throat, and I buried my face in my knees and wept. The night had been too long and trying, apparently for both of us.

"Why do you put up wi-with it?" I asked through my tears. "You can get a restraining order, or som-something." Draco looked away.

"You don't understand. He's my...My father. Would you put a restraining order on your father?" I had a vision of my chubby, jolly father at that moment, and it made me want to start to cry again. I couldn't imagine doing anything like that to him. But, my father doesn't beat me.

"Does he do that often?" I asked, tears streaming down my face, but not sobbing anymore. He bit his lip and shut his eyes.

"Sort of. Look, can we not talk about this right now?" I could tell that I was obviously paining him by asking these sorts of questions, so I stopped. In the purple glow, I could see a single crystalline tear slide down his cheek, but that was all. "I'm going to bed now. Bye." He turned to the far end of the cave and curled up in a fetal position.

That was when I started to take log of this 'adventure'. By the light of purple fire, and using parchment and ink stolen from a student. I figured that Harriet Camber wasn't going to use it. She hasn't missed it yet, at any rate. Not much has happened since then. I eat and sleep at different intervals, and just concentrate on surviving, basically. We don't know when we should go back to Hogwarts, or if we even dare. I'm afraid that when I go back, all I'll see is a charred heap of bones, and Voldemort laughing gleefully at the drama. Draco's afraid to go back and face his father. Personally, I don't blame him, after the conversation about five sleeps ago. Five sleeps ago. That sounds so primitive it isn't funny. But...I guess I am primitive, in a way, now. Even Hogwarts seems like a distant dream now, not real. What is real is eating and sleeping, and surviving until we get some sort of omen that it's safe to leave our cave. I don't know when that'll be. Perhaps never. Maybe tomorrow. I can only pray. I remember reading stories with happy endings when I was little. I remember being sure that everything had a happy ending, somehow.

I'm not so sure of that anymore.

Author's note: Ugh. Dear me, that was terrible. So many plot holes, everybody was so out of character, and I'm horrible at first person view...I don't really know why I'm posting this. I know I should be working on the second part of my Celeste story, I guess this is just to tell you guys I still have a pulse, and I'm still writing....Even though I don't care for this too much at all. But, if I get enough nice reviews, I *might* consider writing a sequel. That is *might*. Please don't flame. I don't like it that much either, but 'that really sucked' is no way to boost my poor confidence, kay?

~Moxie ^_^

Disclaimer: I don't own anything in this story, really. Just a couple of names and spells. That's all.


	2. Bittersweet Triumph

The Attack

To tell whoever's reading this the absolute truth, I didn't plan to log the rest of this. I honestly didn't. But, I guess I will tell you the ending right here: we won. Don't be surprised. If we didn't win, somehow, I wouldn't be writing this. You know it, I know it. So don't be an idiot.

You're wondering why I'm so bitter right now, huh? Well, you'd have a bloody right to be bitter, if you've gone through what I have, and lost what I lost in the process of doing it. But, I did say I would record the entire shabang, if not for me, then for history, so it hopefully won't repeat itself. But...It hurts.

Where did I leave off at? The first night in the cave. Well, now that I have regained meaning of time and dates, I know that we were living in the forest for about a week. It seemed like a bloody year. Life was an automatic thing. You ate, you slept, you looked over the camp, and you looked for water. Easy enough. Malfoy and I even became decently tolerant of each other, since we spent nearly every waking moment with the other person. I hate to admit it, and I would never say it to his face, but I don't think I could have done it without Draco. It was a relief to see a familiar face every day, even if the face was once hostile. But we had declared a silent truce: our childish squabbles no longer mattered anymore, to anybody.

I remember on previous pieces of parchment that I said that we were looking for an omen, to show us the correct time when to come home. On the seventh day of living in the cave, I found it. Everybody was a terrible mess. Most of the first years spent their time blubbering and sobbing as quietly as they could. Nobody had had a bath, or brushed their hair or done any grooming for days. My hair was now one giant, gnarled knot, and my skin was so greasy and dirty that it looked like I had gotten a severe tan. Malfoy's hair had now changed from a whitish-blond to a pitiful, sick, almost brownish-green-gray.

Well, anyway, it was my turn to go out to get water. We had constructed a bucket made out of clay, so we could always have some, in case Malfoy's Dark fire went awry. So, I was filling it up at a stream nearby, when I saw a streak of red bolt through the sky. Startled, I dropped the makeshift bucket in the river. It was washed off downstream before I could do anything about it, but I didn't care. I heard a squawk behind me, and I whirled around.

It was Fawkes.

I was so happy I could have cried. In fact, I do believe I did. He landed on my arm, and started chattering to me. Of course, I couldn't understand a ruddy word it said, but no matter. It was a couple of moments before I got over my happiness over seeing something familiar, but then I found he held something in his beak, and he dropped it on the ground. Picking it up, I found that it was a long, dark shaft of wood. A wand. I looked at it closely, and waggled it. Red power streaked up my arms. I screamed, but the sound was rudely stifled by something. I gasped, and I breathed in some of the red mist stuff. It was heavy and thick, and I collapsed to the ground.

When I came to, I found Fawkes leaning over me. He cawed at me, and I blinked. He had said something. Shaking my head, I squinted at the gray sky.

"What?" I heard something of a bird-sigh before Fawkes called again.

_I said, you need to get back to the school, right now! I'll lend you and your friends a lift, if need be. I nearly fainted. _

"WHAT? You-you just talked talked to me! I don't talk to birds! I can't-" Fawkes was obviously not in the mood to listen to my babble, and he showed it by knocking me over the head with one of his wings. I learned the hard way that Phoenix's have very strong wings.

_Shut up! That's Dumbledore's wand! You can't talk to birds, but he could. It's the wand. When you're done with it, you won't be able to talk to me anymore. Just grab hold, and let's go!_

I did so, and felt an incredible lightness pass through my arms, right into the tips of my toes. Stuffing the wand deep in my bedraggled robe pocket, Fawkes took me back to the cave, and landed me in front of the opening. I raced in the cave.

"We're going back to the school," I said abruptly when I got to where the other refugees were. "Put out that fire, Malfoy." Malfoy blinked sleepily at me.

"Why are we going back to the school, Granger?" he asked. But, he heeded my orders, and wiggled his fingers, making the flames play down, until there was nothing but charred logs and kindling where the purple bonfire had been before. I paused before answering.

"A little bird told me to, that's why." I chuckled as I thought of the stupid pun. Of course, nobody else laughed; they had no idea what I was talking about. But I didn't care, really.

"Everybody, lets move it!" I walked outside, where the red bird was waiting.

_I didn't know that there were so many of you. Oh well. No matter. Just hold hands, and I can take all of you._

I related what the bird said to the rest of the group, and they all eyed me warily, like I was going insane. I probably was, but that wasn't the point.

"Hermione," Draco said, trying to talk some sense into me. But that doesn't make any sense, because he doesn't have any sense. But, no matter. "That bird cannot possibly carry forty people at once. I lost patience.

"Take my hand, Draco whatever-your-middle-name-is Malfoy," I threatened, "or I will think of some nasty curse that will turn your skin green and give you horns." It was a stupid threat, but it worked, nevertheless. He scanned me with those icy eyes of his, and grabbed my hand. An odd sensation shot through my body when he did that. Skin on skin contact with him made my toes tingle, for some stupid reason. He obviously was having the same reaction, because when he ordered the first years to do the same thing, his voice was an octave or so higher.

"Lucas," he muttered to me when I grabbed Fawkes's tail. He started to flap his wings, and I grimaced as the too-light feeling shot through my bones again.

"What?" I asked as the crimson bird started to take flight. He sighed impatiently.

"Lucas is my middle name. It might be helpful next time you decide to threaten me by turning my skin green." I grinned.

"Lucas after your father?" My feet started to leave the ground.

"No. His name is spelled L-u-c-i-u-s, and my middle name is spelled L-u-c-u-s." We had started to leave the ground, when he spoke again, more quietly this time. "Just for the hell of it, what is your middle name?" 

"Felicity. I think it's after my grandmother, but my father didn't like the name enough to use it as a first name." We were soaring through the air now. When I looked down at him again, I noticed that his eyes were tightly shut, and he was gripping my hand so hard it hurt. 

"Hey. What's your problem?" I asked, digging jagged fingernails into his pallid flesh until he opened watering gray eyes.

"I...I hate...hate heights," he stammered pitifully. I couldn't help it. I started to laugh. It felt wonderful. My stomach started to hurt like hell, but it was still wonderful. Malfoy didn't share my glee.

"It's not funny, Hermione Felicity," he grumbled to himself while I went on laughing, until my eyes were watering so hard, they could be accounted for as tears. 

We made it to the school. I stopped laughing immediately. It was a terribly flesh-chilling sight. I could feel a wave of terror sweep through the chain of people that we had. We landed.

Half of the place was burnt to the ground, a mangled heap of black stone and metal, with the ashes of the wooden parts of the castle smeared over the ground. The other half that wasn't burnt was practically crumbling, and the entire place seemed to shimmer eerily, a sign of the magic that was used. It made my flesh crawl up my arms. But, far worse than any of this, were the bodies that were strewn all over the place, some charred, some lying there, just like they were sleeping.

I was not the only one who screamed. We, all forty-two of us, started tearing the ruins apart, trying to identify the burnt, magicked, ravaged bodies. The sky was a copy of the dreary emptiness that I felt as I sorted through the corpses. Friends, enemies, and people I didn't know yet were scattered throughout the school, like grotesque confetti.

If you're hoping for a death list, don't hold your breath. There are too many. I'll just say this....Professor Snape will never again take points from Gryffindor, McGonagall won't smile at me again for turning a match into a needle. Sprout will not grow another plant. Lavender Brown won't score a Quidditch goal; Patil Parvil will not cheer her on. Ginny Weasley will not swoon over Harry any more. Crabbe and Goyle will not stand stupidly next to Malfoy, cracking their knuckles ever again. Harry....Well, Harry and Ron were good friends, and they met fate together, defeated Voldemort so many times before together...and now they will touch the face of God together.

I broke down into passionate sobs. I was not the only one. I remember hearing agonized screaming from behind a turret and I drug myself off the ground to comfort the little first year, that must have lost a sibling. Well, did I get a jolt when I saw that it wasn't a first year. It was Draco Malfoy, leaning over the body of his ghost-white, paler than normal, not-breathing father. I had forgotten. Obviously he didn't notice me there. Agony turned to anger in him.

"How dare you die on me! I did not put up with you for seventeen years to have you die on me, Father! Get up, damn you!" I would have laughed if the situation were not so deadly serious. He started striking his father's body viciously, and I admit, I was afraid. He was scary. It took all my strength to steel myself to put a hand on his shoulder. When I finally did, a pair of red-rimmed gray eyes rewarded me, no longer looking forbidding or icy, but terrified and full of grief. Anger converted into another emotion for him: sadness. He started to sob into my helplessly worn bathrobe. I didn't know what to do. But seeing him like this made me start on again, crying into his hair. I don't know how long we stood there like that. But we did, until I heard a gratingly familiar voice behind me.

"Ahhh. I see the runaway darlings have come back to get fried also." Obviously, it was Voldemort. Whirling around, I faced the green spirit with broken body and mind. We stood there, until Draco's eyes got wide, and he grabbed my wrist.

"MOVE IT!!" he cried, and drug me off. I was about to ask why, but when I turned around again, I saw there there was a crater where I once stood. Voldemort went on following us, and it began to pour. Lightning struck in the distance. It was like the setting for some drama story, which I'm afraid that this is turning into.

We turned the corner, and we were on the side of the still-standing part of the building. Draco spotted a staircase, and we sprinted up it. Everything was going in slow motion in our brains, and I was weak and knock-kneed with a clash of fear, sadness, and a hint of anger thrown in for good measure. 

I knew from the familiar architecture that we were in the Defense Against the Dark Arts hallway. Even though it hadn't been burnt to the ground, it had been thoroughly charred, the walls were coated with a black substance, and there were only picture frames, and metal fragments scattered about the floor, along with a corpse that was hanging half out a window. I didn't take the time to cry over it, I just kept on running. It was like one of those nightmares that you keep on running, and running, and not getting anywhere. We twisted and twined around the corridor, with Voldemort's green glow at our back, laughing at our fear. It also reminded me of what Crookshanks does to a mouse before he kills it. Catching it, batting the mouse around in his claws, and letting it go again. When he got finished with the poor mouse, it was probably so battered and beaten that death must have been a relief. I couldn't let that happen to me!

Grabbing Draco's hand, I yanked him to a hole in the woodworking of the wall. Looking down, I saw that we were atleast five stories up. If we jumped, we would be lucky to get away with our lives. Draco looked at me, cold sweat beading his forehead.

"You're crazy," he said, flatly. "There is no way in hell I'm jumping from here." I looked at him in despair, wanting both to knock him over the head, and cry at the same time. Voldemort's ominous laughing was getting nearer and nearer. Draco swallowed.

"Disregard what I just said, Hermione," he sighed. "Dear God, if you allow me to live through this, I promise I will be good forever and ever." He peered over the side of the castle, and I could see his fear escalating. "I hate heights," he whimpered. But then he looked over at the green glow of Voldemort, and bit his lip. His grip on my hand was bone crushing.

"Draco, you're hurting me," I complained, looking down at the ground. When he let go of my hand, I grabbed it again, and in an act of stupidity, hurled myself off the landing, my weight dragging Draco along with me. I screamed. He screamed.

I felt myself going lightheaded as the rain whipped my skin, and the damp air passed by me. After I got over the initial shock of dropping through empty space, I began rather to enjoy myself, actually. It was quite elating. Even Draco stopped screaming. Our eyes locked for a brief moment during the freefall, and I could see it in his eyes, and undoutably, he could see it in mine: we had both accepted what would happen when we inevitably would hit the ground. But the heavens had different ideas.

I don't know what happened then. But it seemed too big of a deal to be a coincidence. I heard voices ringing in my ears, familiar voices, those of Harry, Ron, Seamus, I even heard Nevelle. I thought it was just they welcoming me to the gateway of Heaven, so I shut my eyes, waiting for the moment of impact. Voldemort was laughing again, but I didn't care. I was going to a place where he could never follow, and I would be happy forever, or so I hoped. But the wind picked up. Hard. It whipped my matted tangle of hair away from my face, and made my skin ripple. I didn't hit the ground. My eyes opened, I knew that I wasn't that far above the ground. I nearly died, but this time of shock. The wind was keeping Draco and I held above the earth. My mind blanched. Sure, the wind was blowing hard, but, it wasn't hurricane force or anything. Draco was clearly as surprised as I was. Looking down, I noticed little particles of gold running along in the wind. We landed with a soft thud on the ground, and I looked up.

Voldemort was still there, looking thoughtful. I didn't know why, but I burst into tears. Part of it was from the grace of being saved. But, the other part was the fact that I was still living. I wanted to get away from my troubles; I didn't want to deal with this anymore! Death was almost welcome to my poor, aching body and soul. I heard voices.

_Hermione, stop that. You don't want to die._ I was startled. The voice was familiar, but distant and foggy. "Harry?" I whispered, not wanting to believe it. "But, you're dead, I saw your body..." I looked over at Malfoy. Was I going insane?

"Potter?" Apparently, I wasn't. His face was white, pale, and shaky.

_Yes, Malfoy, you useless blockhead. Now go over there and comfort_ _Hermione, you dolt!_ If this had been Harry in the living, Malfoy would have sneered. But, when there's a dead someone ordering you to do something, you don't argue. Draco stumbled closer and awkwardly put both arms around me in an embrace. It was pouring, we were both bedraggled and worn, not exactly ideal settings for a first romantic scene between my used-to-be mortal enemy and me. But, no matter. I didn't care. I could hear Harry snort.

Better, Malfoy. Next time, though, I shouldn't have to tell you to do it! Harry's voice disappeared from our awarenesses. But, my awareness was full of something else right now: the fact that almost every body part I possessed was now crunched up against Malfoy. I felt kind of dirty, but otherwise, actually, despite it all, quite content. Of course, we had forgotten Voldemort.

"How touching. The traitor and the Mudblood. Well, I'm glad that you both got to experience a bit of the emotion that you seem to hold to dear to your hearts, love, before I fry you." My face went ashen, as well did Draco's.

Voldemort raised a flaming limb, ready to do a death curse, when there was a yell behind me. Voldemort stopped, surprised, and looked. I whirled around, and I saw the group of first years, one of them with a wand. He gripped it with a fist curled around the wood, very improper, but it worked. A translucent beam of..of something whipped out of it, and struck Voldemort's essence, making him stall. It was long enough for Draco and I to untangle, and stand up from the muddy slop on the ground. I had no idea what to do now, run? Where to?

Dumbledore's wand knocked against my thigh. I gripped it and stared. What could I do? I knew numberless charms and little ditties, but no major curses. I mean, I know some, but, none powerful enough to vanquish the Dark Lord. Voldemort righted himself, and looked at us. He started to laugh again.

"Okay, now you can stand! You've got a wand? I'm shaking in my boots, little girl! I destroyed Hogwarts, all of its students and teachers, and you're going to try to stop me? Two, pathetic, idiotic little twerps and their gang of brats, against the greatest wizard of all time? Go ahead, I haven't had a good laugh in ages!" I found this hard to believe, since all he had done was laugh since the moment I met him.

A strange feeling erupted in the back of my stomach. It was happening to Draco too, as I saw him grip his abdomen and wince. An odd, tingling feeling spread over my entire body, seeming to wash over to the ends of my fingertips. It was cool, but pleasantly so. Darkness started to seep into the back of my brain. I panicked, I thought I was dying, but, then, oddly, I felt calm, and at ease with the world. White flashed over my vision, then black. My knees suddenly felt weak, and my body was too heavy for my legs, so I sat hard. Voldemort started to laugh again. I didn't care, anymore. My world was fading, and fading fast. If this was dying, I was really rather enjoying the experience. I felt a brief sensation of flesh over my hand: Draco's palm. With great effort, I turned my hand up, and gave his a brief squeeze. My world blacked out.

~*~*~

I put that divider there, so, if anyone will read this later, there will be no confusion. Well, I awoke in a strange place, with a sharp odor. My eyes fluttered open, and I found that I was in an infirmary of some sort. A nurse, with snappy green eyes and brown hair done up in a bun, noticed I was awake, and smiled. Walking over to me, she pulled my bed up to a sitting position, and me along with it. When she did so, I noticed that Draco was in the same room as me, and he looked, I'm sorry to say, terrible. His skin was the same ghostly white as the sheets in his bed. Of course, having gray eyes, white-blonde hair, and wearing a white hospital robe didn't help him much either. When he noticed that I was up also, he gave me a feeble smile, and went back to staring at the white wall in front of him. The nurse left the room, and came back in with two trays, that had a bowl of steaming porridge on them. I smiled when I noticed that there was a small sprig of lavender on the tray. But then I was reminded of Lavender Brown, and was saddened. The nurse didn't notice.

"Can you handle the spoon, dearie?" she asked, smiling at me. I looked at my hands, pale and limp at my sides. I honestly didn't think so, but I rallied my pride.

"I'll try." Well, as it turned out, I couldn't make my fingers grip the spoon, no matter how hard I tried. It was very degrading, being fed like I was two, but it was a small comfort to know that Malfoy was having the same troubles, and had to be spoon-fed also. His cheeks were burning with embarrassment as he accepted another spoonful of porridge from the nurse. When the bowls were cleared away, another nurse came into see us, this one with black hair in a ponytail, and blue eyes that x-rayed us.

"I suppose you'd like an explanation about what happened at the ruins of your school." His pride seriously hurt, Malfoy snorted.

"Yes, an explanation would be nice about now," he said sourly. I smiled, and would have hid it behind my hand, if I could move my hand. The nurse grinned curtly.

"Well, it will come to a comfort to you that the Dark Lord has been vanquished, for now." I sat up, and immediately regretted it.

"What?" I croaked.

"The magic that defeated the Dark Lord came from your body. But...it was odd magic, it was. It was...supernatural, if you will." Draco and I stared at each other.

"I don't know what it was. Nobody does. But, there is bad news. We had crews go over to the wreckage that once was Hogwarts, and we got the death count. I don't know what the exact number is, but you two and the Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and Gryffindor first years were the only ones who survived the mess." She looked at us sadly. "I'm sorry."

I was shocked. So shocked that I had to lean back to absorb it all. The nurse cleared her throat. "I don't want you two to think that this is your fault. You were right about getting the little kids who couldn't use wands out of the castle. It was the noble thing to do. You would have been killed also if you would have stayed." My eyes filled with tears, and the nurse got up and quietly left the room. Draco and I said nothing to each other. What was there left to say?

That's how my days passed. Sleeping, being spoon-fed oatmeal until we could eat it ourselves, and just thinking. That is, until tonight. It was like an omen. I've been sleeping so long, that I know I can't sleep anymore. I noticed that my old bathrobe and nightgown were wadded at the bottom of my bed. The moon appeared from behind a cloud, and illuminated the room perfectly. I got my broken quill out, the slightly cracked jar of green ink, and my ratty parchment out. God makes these kinds of nights for talking or expressing bottled feelings, and these are mine.

I don't think I can write anymore. Frankly, there is nothing else to say. I just have to wrestle myself into forgiving this tragedy, when so many others did not. I have the sick feeling that I will never forgive, and especially not forget.

# # #

I have picked up my quill again, for the sole reason that something elating to my body and soul happened that will cleanse this paper out.

Well, when Draco and I could leave the hospital, we got it worked out to where he could stay at my house for a few weeks while affairs at his Manor were being worked out. Funny, but, after being with him for four weeks, almost, I'm still not sick of him. Well, on with it.

Mum and Dad were rather reluctant a first to let a boy stay at our house, but after swearing on our lives that we wouldn't do anything sexual, they let him stay. Not that we can, since he sleeps downstairs on the couch.

One night, I was lying on my bed; it was around two, just thinking. The door creaked open, and I was not surprised to see Draco standing there, in a bathrobe. He shyly walked over and scuffed his foot up against the floor. "I can't sleep," he blurted out. I rolled my eyes.

"Obviously." He started giving me these big gray puppy eyes. I couldn't help but be reminded of a two-year-old that had just had a bad dream and was trying to make his parents let him sleep with them. I rolled over. "Fine." He grinned and lay on the bed with me.

As my bed is only single-person-sized, it was rather a close fit. We were both on our sides, and my nose was smashed up against his chest. I didn't mind a bit. Inhaling, I breathed in his scent: soap, deodorant (I had introduced him to the stuff the week before, and he was now obsessed with it) a spray of cologne, and a touch of sweat. After breathing in that scent for ten minutes, I was sleepy. Apparently, so was he. He put an arm around my waist, and we both fell asleep.

We both had the same dream. We were in the middle of a bright, soothing, misty nothingness, in our nightclothes, looking around. Shadowy figures started appearing out of the mist: Harry, Ron, Seamus, Cho, Nevelle, Crabbe, Goyle, Lavender, and everybody from Hogwarts were there, beaming at us. They were all wearing the same things; white wizard robes, with a thick, golden rope knotted around their waists. No wings or halos, but they were angels. 

_We are very proud of you two rebels, you know,_ came a voice from the crowd. Several other mistily familiar voices were there also. Seamus stepped forward.

_You did a great thing, and we are all proud of that. But, we fear that we have made your life miserable by dying on you. Please, do not grieve._ Harry smiled at Malfoy ironically.

_You did all right, Draco Malfoy. Just don't be surprised if one day you badmouth me in front of your new friends, and you suddenly find yourself in your underwear._ Ron and the other Gryffindors started to crack up. Draco laughed mockingly.

"Oh, aren't you just precious," he said in a high tone. Ron stepped in front of Harry.

_But, seriously, we can't be happy here if you two are moping around all the time. So stop. We don't blame you, and we never had. In reality we are_ - he coughed and looked at Malfoy - _grateful to you for making our deaths worthwhile. Don't you dare quote me on that, Malfoy._ I grinned. Another figure stepped out from behind the curtain of teenagers, tall, silver-blond headed, and looking at Draco. It was Lucius Malfoy. Draco looked rather frightened, and I grabbed his hand protectively.

_Son,_ he said. _I don't think I have ever been so proud of a member of the Malfoy family from the day I was born. I just wanted you to know that. I also think that I owe you an apology, for not being there when you needed me when you were younger, and going to be there for you in the future. But, I think I need to say this, and I don't ever think I said it before. I love you._ He continued on, sounding gruff_. You may have thought that I didn't, but I did, and I still do. _Lucius Malfoy rubbed his forehead. _Forgive me, but I did mean every word I just said. I'm just not that good at these heartwarming speeches_. He smiled at Draco. _I've had more practice doing the other kind._

Draco looked utterly shocked. I admit, I felt the same way. But, he was shocked behind words. His bottom lip curled under, and he started to sob. Lucius smiled and enveloped his son in a hug. I grinned, and I looked at the angels of my friends and grinned again. For the first time in weeks, I had gotten a feeling of lightheartedness, it was as if someone had cut off chains off of me, and I felt that I could fly, if I wanted to. The dream started to dim, and the last thing I heard before returning to the world as I knew it was Ron's voice.

_Just don't get in too much trouble, you two, all right?_

~*~*~

I awoke, feeling shocked. I peeled my nose off of Draco's chest and looked up at him, to ask him if he had had the dream also. I didn't need an answer, as he was practically sobbing into my pillow. Wrenching an arm free, I grabbed a handkerchief from the bedstead and started to mop his face off. He looked down at me.

"Never...said it...he never did....first time.." I gently shut his mouth, to keep himself from blubbering too loud.

"Sssshhh. It's okay." He looked down at me again, throat working, as if he was making a decision. I guess he did, because he leaned down and kissed me gently.

"You're all right," he said, when he'd finished. "For a Mudblood, that is." I smacked at him with my damp handkerchief.

"Go downstairs, you," I said, feeling faint. "If Mum or Dad finds us in here, we'd join our friends up in heaven." He left.

Alone now, writing by the thin light the rising sun gives, I feel hopeful. Somethings happen to you that you can't change. Death is as real as life, and it can strike at any corner you turn. You can face that with courage, or fear, and I face it with both. My friends died for a noble cause, and because they died doesn't mean the sun is going to stop setting or rising, time will not stop, and death will continue it's cruel cycle. But love is forever. I will always love Ron, Harry, and everybody else. I will even love Crabbe and Goyle's memory, with that of an enemy's wary love. I am beginning to love Draco. And I know that they will always love me.

In my heart, I know that all of them, every single one, are at peace.

The End

Author's note: Well, it's astounding how fast you can write with a little bit of encouragement! Thank you for all of your inspiring reviews, they really made my day, and they gave me the get-go to write more. I hope you enjoyed it, and I think it ended happily, in a bittersweet way. Tell me what you thought! And if you didn't like it, no flames!

~Moxie ^_^

Disclamer: Once again, I do not own anything in this story! So please don't sue. It'd really put a damper on my day. ~_^ 


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